Last Man Standing
by Glisseo
Summary: The last of the Marauders. Who would have ever thought it would turn out this way? James, the leader, first down, and he, Remus, the last one standing ...   Would he die tonight?


_"Wormtail's dead," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. "When we were escaping the cellar ... he tried to strangle me, and I said - I reminded him that I had saved his life ..."_

_"He killed himself?"_

_"Strangled himself. With his silver hand. Ron and I tried to pull it away ..."_

_"There was nothing you could have done, Harry. Peter caused this himself."_

It was this conversation that replayed itself in Remus's mind as he ran along the passage to Hogwarts. He was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he was now the last one. The last of the Marauders. Who would have ever thought it would turn out this way? James, the leader, first down, and he, Remus, the last one standing ...

Would he die tonight?

He didn't want to, he realised. He _really _didn't want to. He finally had something to live for.

* * *

He was startled at how easily duelling came to him now. At eighteen, he'd been awkward and clumsy - by no means untalented, but unused to the speed and ferocity of a battle. Now, twenty years later, he could leap headlong into a duel as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He gripped his wand tightly, dodging and ducking curses aimed his way, sending his own right back ...

The photograph of his son seemed to burn in his breast pocket, warm against his heart, and despite the velocity of the battle, he could not help smiling at the thought of Teddy. His son, safe at home with his mother. They would not be harmed tonight, he thought, and with that in mind, he fought harder than ever.

A well-aimed curse, and the hooded Death Eater he was fighting was down. He barely had a second to gather his bearings before he was engaged by another. A long, twisted face ... Dolohov. A cold laugh; he had been recognised.

"The werewolf," snarled Dolohov.

"Evening, Antonin."

On the battlefield, Remus could be just as brave, just as fearless as James and Sirius. Would they be proud of him? He and James had both become husbands and fathers ... but Remus's son would not have the same life James's had.

Where was Harry now? Was he all right? Would he survive tonight?

Curses flew. Dolohov was growing frustrated; he wanted it over. "You can't win, werewolf!" he spat, as Remus deflected his Killing Curse yet again. "You won't!"

_I already have_, Remus thought. _I am a better person than you_.

All of a sudden, Dolohov seemed to change tack; he pointed his wand over Remus's shoulder, eyes glinting maliciously. Remus turned - a yell of panic came, and he realised it was his own - Dolohov's curse was flying towards an apparently wandless Dean Thomas -

_"PROTEGO!" _Remus shouted, and - _thank God thank God thank God _- the curse bounced away from Dean.

"_Professor Lupin, look out!"_

Had it been a trick? Had Dolohov predicted what he would do?

A scream - a flash of bubblegum pink -

* * *

"Have you seen Remus?"

"He was dueling Dolohov, haven't seen him since!"

She pelted after Aberforth, tripping over her own feet, desperately searching for him. _Remus ... please not Remus _...

She shouldn't have come, she knew that, and he'd be angry when he found out, but how could she possibly have stayed? She just needed to find him - to know that he was all right ...

She skidded down the marble staircase, knocking into people, cursing her clumsiness, ducking curses - and then, through the open doors of the Great Hall -

He was brilliant. His face was full of fierce determination, his wand slicing through the air, sending spell after spell at Dolohov. Tonks felt her heart swell with pride for this man, her husband - and yet she was still terrified that something might go wrong. Heart thudding, she burst into the Hall, just as Dolohov pointed his wand away from Remus - over his shoulder - and sent a spell at a teenage boy standing a few feet away.

_That's my man_, Tonks thought, as Remus spun round to protect the boy (had he taught him?) - and then -

_No!_

_NO! NO! REMUS, NOT REMUS, NO, NO!_

_"NOOOOOOOO!"_

Her legs carried her forwards, her face burning, limbs trembling, but even as she ran she knew - knew it was no good -

Dolohov laughed and disappeared, pursuing another victim, his last slumped on the ground, wand slipping from his lifeless fingers.

She could do nothing but fall to her knees beside him, touch his face, stroke his hair, place her hand over the heart that was no longer beating, tears falling on his chest. She did not see Bellatrix approach, did not hear her shriek of delight, did not feel the curse that struck her squarely in the back.

* * *

_Oh dear. Not a cheerful piece, I'm afraid, but I was rather inspired by a wonderful piece of art by __**endoftheline **__on _**deviantArt**_- go look for it, now! _

_I'm really not very good at writing action ... but I wanted to show that although Remus told Harry that war was no time to be kind-hearted (not in those exact words), that was what caused his own death ... um. Yeah. Hope it's all right ..._


End file.
